


Across the Sea

by EllieL



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Gen, Missions Gone Wrong, Pre-ESB, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: It should have been a simple mission to Ponton to pick up a load of medical supplies. But things never go according to plan.For the August 2019 HanLeia Challenge prompt "getaway"





	Across the Sea

It was supposed to be a quick and easy supply run to Ponton. They weren’t picking up intel or arms, merely medical supplies. Get in and out fast, in less than three hours, a perfect mission for the Falcon. And the perfect excuse for Leia to get off-base for a few days, to actively do something, rather than shuffle data around.

As the Falcon dropped below the thick cloud layer and skimmed over the swirling ocean that covered the planet, she could see the spaceport straight ahead, and far off to the left, the vast complex that produced the highly effective, broad-spectrum antibiotic from a native sea plant. Over the past century, it had created an economic boom on the oceanic planet, and their production factories had gradually expanded beyond the single antibiotic to a booming medical industry. Native amphibious Pontonians had hired out much of the labor to a multitude of humanoids looking for well-paying work and few questions asked, while reaping the financial benefits of their work. They had become just rich enough, and were just distant enough, to remain independent of the Empire, out on the edge of the Outer Rim where they could sell to whoever could pay their prices.

Or have their prices paid for them.

Someone sympathetic to the Rebel’s cause had routed credits through a grey web of back channels and conversions in order to provision the Alliance with one dozen cases of desperately needed antibiotic, and a further two dozen crates of general medical supplies. All of it would easily fit into one of the holds on the Falcon, and be a quick and easy mission. 

But upon landing there had been a squadron of Imperials in the Mavroudi spaceport, also there to collect on a supply of medical goods, and making the populace wary. These were not merely stormtroopers, but a group of high ranking officers and soldiers, their dark, tailored uniforms contrasting ominously with the colorful, flowing local attire. Despite not being under Imperial control, the Imperial military seemingly expected the city to run as if it was, and tried to impose their expectations on the locals.

Han had been here before, and not too long ago; he was a known quantity to some of those in the port, as a smuggler and shipper for hire, and no one raised an eye at him, as he added a long blue coat over his usual attire, blended in reasonably well with the local population. He noted a change in the previously relaxed atmosphere of the city, which had been free of Imperials at his prior visit. Everyone seemed on edge now, watchful and distrustful, where before few questions had been asked but everyone had been superficially friendly. 

It was harder for a Wookiee to blend in, so Chewie had stayed with the ship, as there was no way for him to disappear into a population that was a mix of humanoid and petite, amphibian natives. He would be waiting to help load the ship as soon as they returned. As they’d departed, he’d made a crack about staying afloat and not needing a life preserver, that Leia had only half-understood and Han had scowled at.

Leia had embraced the chance to venture out into the city, donning a long, vivid blue dress and bright pink headscarf to hide her hair. Without makeup and of a stature that fell in the median of heights on the planet, she felt reasonably anonymous as she and Han stepped out of the spaceport and onto a floating dock.

Han, on the other hand, looked wary, staring hard at the skiff in front of them, hesitating for a moment before stepping aboard. She had no such hesitation, stepping lightly and surely aboard without taking his belatedly proffered hand. Watching as he wobbled on the boat as the lines were untied, she took the initiative to stand at the helm. 

“Sit down,” she muttered as he wavered beside her. For once, he didn’t argue, merely dropped into the chair at her side as she steered the boat away from the dock through the dark, turbulent water, strong currents pulling at the small craft. 

“You know where we’re going?” Han tilted his head up at her, looking a bit troubled.

“Not exactly. Can you navigate? You don’t look like you should be captaining a vessel right now.”

“Yeah, head for the second inlet up there.” He gestured vaguely toward the city ahead of them, seeming to float on the water. 

In reality it was originally built on some of the few bits of solid land on the planet, but had been expanded over time so that much of it was indeed floating. There were no roads, only watery channels flowing between the buildings, and narrow pedestrian walkways along the edges of main canals. Space was obviously at a premium, even created space; nothing was wider than it needed to be, and the buildings, though bright and ornate, towered over the narrow waterways between them, throwing them almost entirely into shadow.

She aimed for the slim channel Han had indicated, disappearing between two bright green buildings. The whole city seemed a riot of clashing colors, bright buildings and elaborate white embellishments contrasting with the dark water. Also white were his hands, as they tightly gripped the edge of the console in front of them as she maneuvered through the open water between the spaceport and the city.

“Are you not fond of boats, Han?” 

Or maybe it was the sea generally; as they’d come in, the guidance had been to skim low coming into the port, but he’d stayed at a higher altitude, higher than she knew he could easily fly. She’d personally experienced him flying in so low to bases that she was worried he’d clip off the treetops.

He shook his head and stared straight ahead, eyes on the firm horizon. “You like this?”

Sparing a glance down at the battered, borrowed skiff, and the opaque water, she shrugged. “Not quite this. But I do generally enjoy being on the water. We had a schooner.”

“You sailed it?” He almost managed to smile at her, at the idea of her at the helm like a pirate queen in one of his favorite childhood stories.

“A little. Not by myself,” she said, correcting their course through the powerful currents. “I was allowed to take the tiller occasionally, and can sail in a pinch. But this is skiff easy—no different than driving a landspeeder. Why don’t you like it?”

He waved a hand at the water, splashing up over the prow. “Who knows how deep this is, or what’s living down there? And it  _ moves _ weirdly.”

“Weirdly.” She couldn’t help the brow she quirked at him, but managed to keep the smile at bay as she turned her attention to navigating the currents as the water funneled into the canal.

“Yeah. It’s this red building down here on the right.” It refocused him away from the water, and he seemed to revert back to the more cocksure Han she was used to, more secure now that they were out of the more open lagoon and into the close channels between the buildings.

No one greeted them as they tied the skiff to the cleats in front of the unmarked red building. Up on the second floor, a shutter opened and closed swiftly, but the building was otherwise still. 

“You’re sure we’re just supposed to leave it here?” He looked around with the practiced ease of someone used to assessing shady situations, and remained in his seat, even as she stood, rocking the craft slightly as she exited. It obviously went against all his instincts to leave his means of escape unattended in a strange city, walking away and allowing unknown parties to fulfill their promises. Or meddle with his craft.

“The contact said they need twenty minutes. Go for a stroll along the canals, come back and go. They don’t want to see us.” Leia didn’t like it either, but she’d knew they needed the medical supplies, and was willing to take a calculated risk to get them. After stepping onto the walkway, she extended a hand to him, and he took it as he finally rose and stepped onto something like dry land.

“If I remember right, there’s a market square a couple blocks over, shouldn’t be hard to blend in there for a little while, maybe grab lunch.”

They’d fallen into step with the local foot traffic making its way to the square, but stopped short as they entered it. A group of low-ranking Imperial officers were in the square, and the patrons were attempting to give them a wide berth, but they were having none of it. Loudly, they demanded to be shown the contents of bags and baskets, helped themselves to produce and products, and were demanding identity documents of anyone in their proximity. The locals were unhappy at such treatment, and their objections were growing louder as the behavior escalated. It was clear that the situation was not going to end well, and they wanted no parts of it.

Han caught her arm in his, guiding her carefully along the edge of the market as if a couple just out for a stroll and their daily shopping, trying to make their way to somewhere specific.

She quirked a brow at him as they ducked around a corner, just outside the square, and paused. He didn’t appear to be paying attention to her, his head cocked towards the chaos of the market, beings from a dozen different planets speaking a dozen different tongues, three different competing and clashing musical styles blaring from different booths, the smells of roasting meat and textile dyes mingling strangely. 

She’d hoped it would be safe, thought she’d been able to put on a dark dress and a colorful headscarf and no makeup and blend into a crowd, anonymous as she so rarely had been in her life. Now she knew that all it would take would be one being noticing her, realizing who she was, deciding it would be much better if the Imperials busied themselves with Rebels rather than free market Pontonians. The calculus was one she knew all too well, and she wouldn’t have blamed them for doing it, but she knew they needed to get out of here, fast.

As the ruckus in the square grew louder, a few indignant shouts echoing down their way, then a sharp yell and what sounded like a wave of people headed their way. He spun her suddenly, pushing her back against the plaster wall, warm from the heat of the sun, Han warm against the front of her as he nearly blocked her from view of the market street. His lips were suddenly close beside her ear, his breath hot against her cheek. 

“We’re two blocks over from the skiff. I think we can cut through here, then follow the edge of the bigger canal straight over.”

“You’re sure?” Her voice was muffled by his shirt, and she feared her question had been lost in his coat as he froze, holding her close, his body tensing as footsteps pounded past where they stood. One hand squeezed her shoulder to a point just short of pain, then eased as a growl and banging echoed loudly back in the square behind them. There was a murmuring from the crowd as something big splashed, and a motor revved; it either backfired, or a shot rang out. There was a shriek, rattling off the buildings, and they knew the situation was tipping into the truly dangerous.

“Pretty sure. This city ain’t so easy to navigate, but I think that works in our favor. Easier to get lost, easier to lose someone tailing you. But we need to move  _ now _ .”

She nodded, knew he could feel it against his chest even if he couldn’t see her. Agreement was not the response she wanted to have, being pressed against his warm strong chest was not the sensation she wanted to be enjoying. Clearing her throat, she nodded again, sharply.

“Sounds like they’re two buildings over. But we need to take our time getting back to the boat, though. We need to give them time to load those supplies.”

He looked down at her, long and hard. “I don’t know if we can risk taking that long.”

Glancing down at the chrono on her wrist, she let the pink wrap fall down farther over her face, fully covering her hair. “We’ve been gone ten minutes. They only needed twenty. We go back carefully, rather than hurrying and drawing suspicion, and we’ll have our cargo waiting for us.”

From the square behind them, the restless, angry crowd grew louder, and a few people pushed past them hastily. 

“I don’t think going slow is going to blend in right now. Anyone with common sense is getting the hells outta here.”

There was pleading in her eyes as she looked back up at him; she knew he was aware of just how badly they needed the medical supplies. They’d both seen the inventory for their makeshift med center before departing on this mission, been told to take anything offered. 

“We have to try.”

He was quiet for a moment, and so close she could feel how heavily he was breathing. How heavily they were both breathing, adrenaline high and every instinct telling them both to run, quickly and immediately. Neither were strangers to getting out of dangerous situations, and leisurely was almost never the way to go about it.

“Okay,” he said, with a slow bob of his head. “If we cut up a little ways here, then cut over and double back down, that should buy us enough time. And keep some distance between us and the Imps, as long as they keep close to the market.”

“It sounds like they should be busy with that for a little while.” Behind them, the market square was a clamor of voices rising and falling, an occasional shout, but thankfully nothing else that sounded like blaster fire so far. Putting some space between them and it was not unwelcome; they could move away quickly, even, and double back slowly.

Stepping back fractionally, he loosened his grip, hands sliding down to her elbows over the silky fabric. “Then let’s just look like any other couple out for a casual stroll.”

Reaching up and adjusting her scarf, she tugged at it until it covered the edges of her face, and fell forward enough that if she kept her head down, most of the Imperials wouldn’t be able to see her face.Then she gave him a nod, and a nudge with her hand on his bicep; he released her elbows, but offered his own to her. She hesitated only a moment before tucking her hand into it, a small assurance of keeping him close in the crowd as much as part of their cover.

He was tall enough that he could see over much of the beings hurrying down the walkway, so she for once she allowed herself to be led, keeping her eyes down and trusting him to guide them. It wasn’t long before they stopped again--perhaps half the block--in front of a shop window. She peered in, trying to figure out what it was they were offering, but was still only half-certain it was cheese when she pointed to one of the white-ish lumps in the display.

Han leaned down, pointing himself, and whispered in her ear. “There’s a Lieutenant twenty paces behind us.”

As she nodded, her scarf rippled, and she could just make out the Imperial’s hat above the heads of those trying to get away from him, in the edge of her peripheral vision.

“Should we let him pass us?”

He shook his head and gestured at another lump in the window, then gave her arm a little tug and set them in motion again. “No, I think we need to get as much distance between us as we can, while still looking like we’re shopping.”

“There’s a dress shop in the next block,” she said, suddenly louder and in slightly rusty Corellian, loud enough that others would overhear.

If he was surprised by her language skills, he didn’t show it, merely played right along with her. “Don’t you have enough dresses already?” His Corellian, obviously, was easier, fast enough that it might have been difficult to follow if she hadn’t been expecting it. 

“But you promised me a pink one to go with this…” she trailed off, blanking on the word for  _ scarf _ in Corellian. But it was a good excuse for him to reach over and tug it a little closer around her face. She caught his quick wink, and there might have been the hint of a grin playing at the corners of his lips.

“Fine! But just one. And then we’re going for a drink.”

They’d be due a celebratory drink once they got back to the Falcon and into hyperspace. It was enough, though, in public to move their little act forward, inching their way back to the skiff.

There wasn’t a dress shop along the canal they turned down, but there was a cobbler, and they paused for a moment at the window to see if the Imperial also made the turn. After a minute, they both breathed easier, and headed slowly back around to the canal where they’d left the boat.

A glance at her chronicle showed they’d been gone eighteen minutes as they came into sight of the red house where they’d docked the little boat. A diminutive Pontonian was securing a strap over the mound of boxes, but abandoned it when he noticed their approach, darting quickly back into the building before they reached the vessel.

Leia hopped right aboard and began examining the crates. Han eyes the water warily, as it was now roughened by increased traffic, but cautiously stepped aboard, struggling for balance, and redirected her attention from the supplies.

“Looking too closely will attract attention. Just get that tarp over ‘em and let’s get this show on the road.” He heaved himself into the passenger seat, but reached over to turn the ignition. 

A wave from a passing wake sent their little skiff rocking as she turned toward the captain’s seat, but she’d always had good sea legs and barely bobbled as she took her place at the wheel. “Can you cast off?”

He looked at her blankly, and she gestured towards the ropes holding the boat securely to the dock.

“Untie us.”

It didn’t take him long, and they were under way before he was even back in his seat. When he sat down, he pulled the comm from his pocket and keyed it on.

“Hey, you copy?”

There was a coded click of acknowledgement, but no tell-tale Wookie response. Surely communications were being monitored, but they were no strangers to working around that.

“On the way back, if you want to get dinner fired up.”

Another click on response, then a sharp burst of static, then silence. Hopefully engines would be idling til they arrived, and he’d be waiting with the hover sledge to move the crates to the Falcon in one go. The sooner they were on their way without anyone noticing them, the better.

And they were already free Mavroudi’s canals, the lagoon opening in front of them, dark waves turbulent from the increased boat traffic as everyone hastened to get out of the way of the oppressive Imperial presence. Navigational channels for larger ships were clearly marked, but many smaller vessels, like theirs, could and did ignore them; Leia turned the skiff sharply in the direction of the spaceport, ignoring the marked channel they’d followed across on arrival. They could make much better time taking the direct route, even when slowed down by the weight of cargo. 

But she had to swing in and arcing track, cutting through at an angle to keep the waves and wakes from crashing over the sides of the boat and soaking them both, or soaking the medical supplies. Han was looking vaguely greenish.

“Stop looking down at the water. Look straight ahead at the port dock.”

Of course, he didn’t follow her instruction, but turned to look at her quizzically. 

“It’ll help with the sea sickness. I thought you’d been here before?”

“Yeah but I—“ 

He didn’t get a chance to finish his thought, as their boat was rocked wildly, and a soggy  _ thwack _ echoed over the sound of the engine as water splashed everywhere.

“What the hells was that?”

Reluctantly she throttled down, and they both looked around to assess the situation. There was another sickening squelching noise from the bow and she forgot all pretense of keeping a low profile and shrieked at the sight of a tentacle flailing over the gunwale. 

Han already had his blaster out—where he had been hiding it she wasn’t sure but shooting at the boat they were on did not seem like a good idea. She took one hand off the controls to grab at it.

“Don’t shoot it! You’ll shoot a hole in the boat!” She was screaming at him, desperate to be heard over the engines and water and— _ goddess what was that thing _ ? The small boat rocked again, and another tentacle appeared, sending a shower of water over the boat.

As the tentacle waved menacingly overhead, Han fired, landing several shots that didn’t threaten the seaworthiness of their vessel. Whatever the creature was, it was at least stunned enough to withdraw, releasing them; she wasted no time in throttling the engine, sending up a huge wake behind them and throwing Han off balance as they accelerated. The wet decking proved too much for him and he slipped and fell hard, cursing in Corellian as he went. 

From his ones, he struggled to regain his equilibrium and stand, but that wasn’t her main concern now. It was the look of horror on his face and he looked back at her, then raised his blaster again. They were going quickly and the water was rough—both of them were being jostled and he had no sealegs. She grimaced then crouched as they hit a particularly large wave and the skiff went momentarily airborne. He fired two shots just where she’d been standing and there was more thrashing and splashing behind them. 

Struggling to stand back upright herself on the rocking boat, she pushed the throttle into the red zone and looked for the channel markers pointing them into the spaceport dock. They were still two markers away, though within sight. She could just make out Chewie walking out towards the dock, pushing the hover sledge. She didn’t dare look back, left that to Han, who was looking wobbly but still holding his blaster at the ready, white knuckled as he held on to the edge of the boat.

Ignoring the channel guides and markers admonishing wakes, she aimed as directly as she could for the dock, as quickly as the skiff could go. Laden with their crates, it was not as fast as either of the people in the boat would have liked, but it at least seemed to put some distanced between themselves and the sea creature, as the assault on the boat seemed to ease. They passed one of the channel markers and she considered throttling down to a more civilized speed, until Han fired off a few more shots, then shook his head.

“That thing’s back! And Imps are heading out too!” Though he was yelling, she could barely hear him over the wind and waves and engine. She just nodded in acknowledgement and kept the boat moving, closing in on the dock, where Chewie was waving them in, looking ready to help, but also ready with his bowcaster--he must have noticed what was behind them, too. She was determined not to look at what was behind them until they were safely docked.

“Grab one of the dock lines and toss it to Chewie when we get close. I’m not slowing down.”

His first response was a wholly inappropriate grin, then turned and fumbled one-handed for the lines, while keeping the blaster more or less steady with the other. Over his shoulder, the dock was getting closer and closer, near enough that she could see the worried look on Chewie’s face as they came in at nearly full throttle. 

She braced herself and yelled at Han, “Hold on!”

Cutting the wheel hard to port, the skiff spun, sending up a wave of water towards the dock that left Chewie howling in outrage and sent the port side into the dock bumpers hard. But despite being rattled by the impact, Han managed to toss one of the lines towards the dock, and Chewie caught it, tying up the bow. Only after cutting the engine and hopping onto the dock with the line at the stern to tie them more securely did Leia risk looking up to see what was behind them.

The water was choppy from their rapid entry to the dock, but even more churned up further out into the open water between the port and the city. Whatever that tentacled monster was, it had found itself a better target than their small skiff--two Imperial boats, nearly twice the size of their five meter skiff, were stalled near the center of the channel firing at the dozens of tentacles emerging from the dark waves. But they also had much bigger guns than Han’s blaster, and seemed to be deterring the creature much easier than they’d managed to. 

When she looked back to the boat, Han and a soaking wet Chewie already had it halfway unloaded, stacking dripping wet crates onto the hover sledge. 

“C’mon, Princess, move it!” Han didn’t even pause in his work as he spoke, merely tossed another plasticine box--thankfully, thankfully, nothing would be ruined by water damage--to Chewie, who added it to the stack. 

She crossed the two steps to the sledge and began securing the tie-down netting over the already stacked boxes, but looked up as a particularly loud noise echoed across the water. There was something that might have been blood visible even from this far as one of the tentacles flailed, but an odd shade of blue, nearly as dark as the water. One of the Imperial boats had blasted free and was accelerating towards them. 

“They’re on their way.”

Han tossed up the last crate, and Leia secured it as soon as Chewie placed it down. The Wookie took off with the supplies almost immediately, and she offered Han a hand out of the boat. 

“Get moving, I’ll cover both of you if I need to,” his feet were barely on the dock before he was turning back to get a look at the approaching Imperial gunboat. She hesitated only a split second before following Chewie towards the spaceport gates, knowing they had to cross half the hangar before reaching the Falcon. Behind her, she could hear the firm pounding of his boots on the decking, pausing every so often to look back and assess the situation. His legs were so long that he managed to keep pretty close to her despite the stops.

They were all through the gates and into the hangar before the first shots came behind them, sending a bit of masonry flying off the edge of the gatehouse, but they made it through. Chewie was almost out of sight ahead of them, nearly to the ship. Another blast rocked the gatehouse behind them, almost toppling it. That would buy them a little time, she knew, since it would be harder for anyone else to enter now. 

But they didn’t slow, Han didn’t even pause again, as a few heavier shots echoed behind them and a crash of another ship hitting the dock echoed into the hangar. It wouldn’t be long before blaster fire was behind them, but their ship was in sight now.

The ramp was down and Chewie was nowhere to be seen. Engines were already humming though, she could tell as she approached, a low familiar sound. Han passed her as they were reaching the Falcon’s ramp, and slammed his hand onto the control panel as she was halfway up, raising it even as she was running up, and was gone before she reached the top of the gangway. She stopped there a moment, leaning against the hover sledge of supplies and catching her breath.

As she took a few breaths, she counted the boxes--there were supposed to be thirty-six. She counted again, and again, getting thirty-one both times. Where were the rest of them? The boat had been empty, and this was the same pile she’d secured for transport back to the Falcon. 

“Lifting off.” Han’s voice crackled over the intercom, and she gathered herself up to her full height and headed for the cockpit.

“Where are the other five crates? We need those supplies!”

Chewie never too his eyes of the equipment, but Han half-turned, quickly, to glare at her before turning back to the viewport. “Not right now, Your Worship. We gotta get outta here now.”

They were in fact already up and out of the spaceport, and Pontonian air control was crackling across the comm. “Atmospheric clearance granted, freighter Cygnet.”

Everyone in the cockpit breathed a sigh of relief, and Leia dropped into the navigator’s seat and secured herself as she watched Han reach for the throttle to increase their velocity, and angled the Falcon for a hasty exit from Ponton.

Suddenly, the ship rattled with the impact of fire. 

“Power to the rear shields. I need you in the guns, Princess.” He didn’t turn away from the controls for even a second, and she was already on her feet and moving before Chewie adjusted the shielding ratios.

Another shot shook the ship, less intensely this time, as she climbed into the gun turret. Half-falling into the seat, she powered up the scopes and buckled in all while keeping an eye on the sky around her. They were climbing rapidly, almost to the edge of the atmosphere, almost close enough to jump to hyper. She knew Chewie would have had a quick getaway jump already programmed, they just needed to get clear of the planet to make it.

“Two coming up starboard,” she said into the headset, and prepared the targeting system as the ship banked. With four quick shots, she took the wing off one of the scrambled fighters, and watched it tumble back toward the sea far below. The other swung around for another pass, this time testing their front shields. Her shots missed as it suddenly dove in a tight spiral, but that just put it in range of the belly guns. She felt the reaction of the Falcon as they fired.

“Punch it now, Chewie!”

The space outside the view screen of the turret blurred and flared blue, and they were safe. For a moment, she savored the peace and silence before climbing out of the gun turret. But before she returned to the cockpit, she was distracted by the sledge of medical supplies, which had slid into the ring corridor as they fled. Assessing the situation, she began unfastening cargo netting over the crates, trying to see if they were labelled to indicate contents. Doing a quick count, there appeared to be fourteen insulated crates, which she hoped meant all the antibiotics and medications made it.

Before she could open any of the crates to verify that, she heard Han’s footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Before we jump again, you should secure that.”

“I want to figure out what we lost. Or what they didn’t give us.” She frowned at the pile of supplies, smaller than she’d expected it to look.

“Couple of ‘em went over the side with that monster. ‘Nother one went flying on one of those big waves.”

“Damn it. We needed everything we could get.” Slamming her hand down on the handle of the sledge, she tried to tamp down her frustration--every crate could make the difference between life and death.

“Better those crates than us. Any idea what that thing was?”

“I--I didn’t do as much reading on the native fauna as I should have. Just about the pharmaceutical industry, and the plant life used in it. I didn’t see any mention of anything like...whatever that was.”

Han shrugged, then gestured at the stack of crates. “Lemme help you secure this, then we’re about done with our first hop. I want to try and make two or three of ‘em before we head back, just in case. We need to figure out where to head next.”

It didn’t take long for the two of them to move the sledge into one of the back holds and secure it.

“We’ll sort it all out after the next jump. C’mon.” 

“Where did we jump to?” she asked as she followed him back to the cockpit.

“The Baru system.” He sat in the pilot's seat and spun around to face her at the nav station as Chewie brought them out of hyper.

“Baru? We’re not close to anything here.”

“Kinda the point, Your Highness. It’s s barely inhabited system, buys us a little time to evaluate the situation and see where we wanna go from here.” He punched a few buttons on the computer then turned it so she could see it as well. “We should do at least one more hop before we head back to the base, just to be safe.”

She scanned over the list on the computer screen, looking at the options. “If we do Sullust, that would give us time to sort out the crates before we make the jump back to Hoth.”

“Yeah, it’ll be about two hours there, so we can see what made it through. Pretty short final flight back then.”

She nodded in agreement, and then he swiveled back around, touching Chewie on the arm as he turned. “Sullust next, then back.”

< _ Easier than the rest of this mission. _ >

“Hopefully. I’m gonna help sort out those crates with her.”

< _ I got it. _ >

The space outside the view screen had barely glowed into the blur of hyperspace before they were both heading back to the hold. Leia wasted no time in pulling the insulated crates aside and began to open them. She peered at the labels on the boxes and vials. Twelve crates of antibiotic, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The other two boxes contained several other common medications, and a few dozen vials of various vaccines. 

“There’s a cold hold, right?”

“Yeah, two of ‘em. Let’s get these onto that other cart, and I’ll move it down there, while you sort through the rest of this.”

“Thanks.”

She prised open a few of the other crates and quickly assessed contents while Han headed down the hallway with the most valuable of the supplies they came for. The remaining crates were less exciting, gloves and syringes and gauze and bacta. Necessary, and so helpful to the cause, all of it. She was sitting amongst the crates, smiling in relief, when Han stuck his head back into the hold.

“These all good? Figure out what’s missing?”

Shrugging, she replaced the lid on the crate open in front of her. “We didn’t get an inventory, all we knew we were getting for sure was the antibiotic, and it appears all of that made it. The rest of this is just a wonderful bonus. We could have lost nothing more than crates of gauze, or an entire phlebotodroid. I have no idea.”

“Well, then let’s get back up to help Chewie program the final jump, and get all this home.”

She started for a second at his use of “home” for their new base on Hoth, at the idea that  _ he _ considered it a home. But it wasn’t the time to analyze that thought to closely, so instead she nodded, giving the lid of the crate a final tap to make sure it was closed. 

“Let’s get this home,” she said brightly, and followed him out of the hold.

*


End file.
